CODE GEASS: Vindicta Salvatoris (AU)
by xDreamfyre
Summary: The war between the Japanese and the Britannians continues. Though, without the existence of Zero and the Black Knights, how will Tohdoh, his four holy swords and the rest of the Japanese Liberation Front fare? Will they be able to liberate their people and country. This is a fanfic about the world of Code Geass without Zero.
1. Turn 0: Genesis

TURN 0: GENESIS

"_The date was August 10__th__ in the year 2010 of the imperial calender. The Holy Britannian Empire had just declared war upon Japan. The far east nation had held fast to its neutrality, and now Britannia looms as the world's only superpower. Rights to Japan's underground resources became a hotly disputed issue, draining the already deep-rooted diplomatic tensions between the two sides. In the deciding battle for the mainland, Britannian forces introduced into combat the humanoid autonomous armoured knight known as the knightmare frame. The enemies forces were far greater than anticipated and the knightmares obliterated the Japanese line of defence on the mainland with little effort. Japan became a dominion of the empire. The country was stripped of its freedom, its rights and its name. "Area 11" – the defeated and once proud nation of Japan was re-christened with a mere number."_

—Excerpt from Code Geass, R1 Episode 1, C. C

* * *

><p>THE ASSASSIN<p>

She remembered the moment. That one glorious moment. When it occurred, it had been as though time had stopped alongside all the inhabitants of Japan. The sky had darkened with thick smoke, the normal sounds of daily life replaced by the rumbling in the distance. Most saw a terrorist attack on the Akuma Towers which saw a Japanese plane flying directly into the apex of the first of the two buildings, causing an explosion that gave birth to the clouds of black and smoke into the air, and a noise as loud and erupting and lightning. But she remembered the event to be something else. It had been an act for liberation to her, by which the Japanese told the _un_holy Britannians that they still fought and would continue to fight until the very bitter end, of either the Japanese nation itself or Britannia.

Now, the Britannian citizens that came to Japan seven years ago crowded at the centre of Tokyo Settlement, waiting for their prince to make his appearance on the stage that was made up far in the distance. All around her, she saw different faces; some slim, some chubby. Some with brown eyes, and some with blue eyes. Though she saw no ally in the crowd, no one she knew. The thought at first made her feel sad, but then she realised it would be better this way. Better that the people she knew would not see her today, see her damn herself twice over until she found the only place for her was in the depths of Hell.

The people began to cheer. They shouted "Prince Clovis! Prince Clovis!" over and over. She looked toward the stage to stare into the very man they all cried for. The prince was one of fine features, much like the rest of the many members of the Royal Family. He wore a white and golden cape that hung over his shoulders, and beneath it, a vibrant attire of indigo and gold. But she did not waste her time inspecting him for his clothes; she looked straight into his eyes. "Prince Clovis! Prince Clovis! Prince Clovis!" the crowd continued to chant his name in symphony, though her lips did not move except to curl into a slight curl as a thought entered her mind. She thought of what she was about to do, and she smiled.

When the prince held his hand in the air, the voices and cheers stopped; everything became quiet. "To all my imperial subjects," he exclaimed, looking into the massive assembly for a moment's pause. "Including of course the many co-operative Elevens who chose to serve the empire of Britannia," he added.

We're not Elevens! she thought. We're Japanese! She clenched her hands into fists until her knuckles turned a deadly white, her nails digging into the skin of her palms. Staring around her, she'd hoped to see the Japanese, so she'd have at least someone to share her anger with. But she found no such face. They were all Britannians around her. And though the face she wore that she had long realised to be somewhat a mask was all Britannian, her shock blue eyes and fiery red hair, it was her Japanese blood that made her identity. But she wouldn't have to wait long before that mask was removed and the truth was revealed. By the end of this day, she vowed, everyone would know her name, or at least the idea that she represented: Salvation.

"Do you see my pain?" The prince's voice snapped her back to reality. He gripped at the silk at his chest to express this pain. "My heart was ripped from my chest only to be torn apart; the remnants are filled with rage and sadness. However," he said. The feign of sadness had graced his face, but now the features of the third prince of the Holy Britannian Empire hardened, becoming grim. Her smile had left her face now, and her own features matched his. "as the ruler of Area 11, I will not tolerate terrorism of any kind; because the battle we fight is a righteous one..." And what of their righteous cause? she asked internally. What of their sacrifice? She let her fingers unfold slowly, and with her right, she went into her coat's chest pocket. She felt the metal skin of the weapon with her fingertips. "...a virtuous battle to protect the well-being of one and all." the prince's voice continued, though she was no longer listening. She was waiting.

"Now then everyone, let us praise those who died in justice in our line of duty!" An uproar of screams and shouts began "Let us come together to fight these terrorists who think they can do _us _harm!" Prince Clovis held his fist into the air. And all the while they were chanting, "Prince Clovis! Prince Clovis!" And all the while she was waiting. "Let us show them that we will not cower to their attacks – no!" Another uproar and she wrapped her fingers around the handle. "ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!" Clovis roared. She pulled the gun from her coat, and, extending her arm with the barrel pointed forward, she screamed, "LONG LIVE JAPAN!"

No one heard the gunfire from the screams. "ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!" that was what they all chanted in unison for their prince. Their dead prince. They knew this not from any given signal save the blood that trickled down the prince's face like tears as he fell to the ground, limp.

* * *

><p>THE STRATEGIST<p>

The news of his brother's death hit him harder than he thought it would. Yet, he waned not from the grief of a sibling, but from surprise. How could he not have seen such an attack coming? How could he have not seen? The questions raced through his mind. He would have remained in his constant silence if not for Kanon Maldini's presence behind him. "The late Viceroy of Area 11's body is on its way to the Mainland. His Majesty, Emperor Charles zi Britannia wishes all the princes and princesses to return to Pendragon for his funeral." Kanon said the words in a solemn tone. What he said only mattered for they were already aboard his Avalon, on their way to E.U to sort out political issues. On other days, Schneizel cared little for his father's orders; _he _was the true emperor in his eyes, and the title his father bore simply made his ignoring of such "mundane" issues _acceptable. _

The Second Prince of Britannia slummed in his chair. "Very well," he said to Kanon who now stood by his side, waiting for him to go on. "I shall make the order to turn the ship around, and return to the Mainland for my brother's funeral. Be sure to inform the Captain and the rest of the ship crew." Every word had been directed to Kanon, but he said not one word looking into the man's eyes. He consumed himself in all his thoughts on what to do next, on what would come from his delay to the E.U, of what would become of Area 11 itself. Who would take his brother's place as Viceroy? And there was one thought, one specific thought, that made Prince Schneizel anxious. "And the Sakuradite?" he asked quickly just as he saw Kanon was about to leave him. "Are they still distributing their shares?"

Kanon turned to face Schneizel. "If what you mean by '_they'_, you mean the Six; yes, they're still co-operating. Everyday, more and more Sakuradite deposits are being made." Then, the earl's face turned nervous. Schneizel sensed this, though he neither said anything nor showed any sign to give himself away. He just continued to look into Kanon's eyes until the man spoke once more. "But, there have been reports, Prime Minister, that the largest resistance group of Japan, the Japanese Liberation Front, have secured amounts of the mineral. We know not what they require it for."

"They require it simply because we do, my friend." Schneizel said flatly.

A moment of silence passed between the two men, but it was Kanon who broke it. "Will that be all, Your Majesty?" he asked politely.

Schneizel answered the question by saying, "Do we know who was behind the attack on the Akuma Buildings?"

"We believe the attack to be the work of the Japanese Liberation Front, though it isn't certain. They are most likely the offenders in my opinion." The earl looked angry, almost frustrated at this point. He, for all the time Schneizel had known him, had always hated the idea of terrorism, living in a world where an attempt on innocent people's life could be made. The thought disgusted Kanon. Peace was the key to everything, he once told the prince, but this world was made up of so much evil. "Do you think they were also behind the assassination of Prince Clovis, Prime Minister?" he inquired, shaking Schneizel from his deep thoughts.

"Here," the Second Prince began in a quiet voice. He looked around before he spoke any further; he would not have this conversation interrupted, or even worse, overheard. "Here, I will tell you that the Japanese Liberation were not behind my brother's death. The Government Bureau had been surrounded by Britannian forces, men belonging to the army situated in the far east nation and men belonging to Prince Clovis himself. Though the speech was broadcast across Area 11, the audience would have only been made of Britannian citizens. An Eleven would have not even been able to enter the area, never mind be able to enter the crowd without getting noticed."

"So you believe the culprit to be Britannian?"

"Perhaps," Schneizel replied. "Or someone who could easily pass off as one."

"An assailant sent from the E.U?"

"That was what I originally thought, my friend. Yet, now that I have thought long and hard on the concept, it is unlikely they would make such an attack in such a critical time. They wanted peace with the Britannian Empire not war; why would they order the murder of a member of the royal family?" War between the two superpowers was inevitable, this they both knew. The only question left standing was when it would be declared. But there was something inside him, and the prince knew not of how strong that part was, that told them it was not the E.U that murdered his brother. Then who? he thought to himself. "Here," he repeated aloud. "I will tell you the JLF were not behind the assassination, but to everyone on the outside, we will mark them out as those who are guilty. We will blame them for my brother's death." The Second Prince shifted his vision to his right-hand man. He saw that he looked confused, but voiced no question. For that, he smiled. "To everyone in the Holy Britannian Empire, the Japanese Liberation Front will be painted as not only the terrorists of the Akuma Buildings, but also the assassination of Prince Clovis la Britannia. From this, we will be able to strike Japan for her resistance without question, and squash the rebellious factions from within. Once this is done—"

"We will be able to retrieve the Sakuradite." Kanon interrupted, pleased.

"Yes," Schneizel let his lips curl into a slight smile. "Only then can we begin preparations for new Knightmares to be manufactured for the war we will rage against the E.U."

"Should I send a note to the emperor?" Kanon asked.

He said simply in reply to the earl's question, "Do not concern my father with such _mundane_ issues. I know someone else who will be willing to take the task of destroying the resistance in Japan in hand. No," he said, this time sinisterly. "do not send any note to my father. Send a note to my sister, the Goddess of Victory herself, instead."

* * *

><p>THE GODDESS OF VICTORY<p>

Cornelia walked through the Shinshiku base, her person knight, Lord Gilbert P. Guilford, and General Andreas Dalton alongside her. She had walked those first few moments in silence, the only sound being of her white boots as they connected with the polished ground beneath her. But then the Second Princess stopped, making her company do so as well. Staring into the figure before her, Cornelia had never thought to see her sister again for a long time, she was, after all, in Area 11 now. "Euphie," she whispered, half pleased and half confused. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her only full-blood relative, but there was a part inside her soul Cornelia could not begin to suppress. It was made of fear, not for herself, and not even for the upcoming events that would occur in the next few hours, but for her sister. Of all the people the Goddess of Victory knew, Princess Euphemia li Britannia was ever the only one to worry her.

"Sister,"Euphie said, beaming. She ran towards her elder sister and embraced her, burying her face in the thick locks of Cornelia's magenta hair. They remained that way for a moment, for they both did not wish to let go, and when they untied themselves from each other, Euphie laughed. "It's been so long, hasn't it, Sister."

Cornelia immediately frowned, "You should be in school," she chastised.

"As you should be in Pendragon with mother and our siblings." Euphie too frowned, her features mirroring that of her sisters, but only younger. "You left in such a hurry after Clovis' funeral, people are beginning to believe you cared little for our brother." In truth, Cornelia didn't know how she felt about the late Viceroy of Area 11. She had cared for him the same way she had for any of her other half-siblings. And yet there was something undeniable about the..._feelings _that coiled within her. She pictured two faces, the first being the face of the child she remembered playing chess with her dead brother Lelouch, and the second being the face that was revealed before an audience of thousands of Britannian nobles, white and pale, beautiful and yet dead. Cornelia remembered something had stirred within her – grief? Pain? _Guilt._

"And I am, I'm afraid, beginning to become one of those people." her sister said quietly, her eyes dropping for the ground, saddening. Cornelia's eyes widened ever so slightly; to normal people, perhaps they would have seen no difference, but the Second Princess felt the eyes of her knight on his skin as if he had sensed her surprise at the younger princess' words. It hadn't been something she'd expect to come from her sister's lips, those words, and perhaps it had hurt her to hear such a thing, though Cornelia remained silent, unwilling to answer as of yet.

"Why are you here?" the goddess asked after the silence became too long and far too deafening to bear.

Euphie's gaze shifted from the ground and looked directly into Cornelia's indigo irises. As beautiful as they had always been, there was something cold as ice in them; and as bright as they had always appeared, a darkness as foreboding as the night grew within them. "Father," she began, her voice very much still strong. "His Majesty, requested that I follow you here to Japan as I am to become Viceroy once the resistance has minimized." She looked away from Cornelia once more, as though she felt some form of guilt over being one of the successors of her brother's role, established only moments after his death. "For now, that title remains with you though." she finished.

"Yes," That was all the Second Princess said before she began to walk away. In that moment, Cornelia truly felt as though her heart had become stone, and if there was any doubt that it wasn't, she wished it to be. It was, after everything, much easier for her to be cold, distant, stoic, than to be..._human. _She felt she was more apart of the Gloucester she controlled in battle, metallic and robotic, than apart of the family Euphie envisioned the royal family to be. "I am the Viceroy," she broke the silence. "And you must stay within the base until I instruct you to do otherwise. Battle will commence in a few moments' time. Do not get in the way." And she turned into a walk, brushing past her sister, her only thought before her mind shifted into its mindset of militarism being that there were far worse things she could have said, and that they, if said, would have been even less meant than what she _did _say.

Cornelia walked through the narrow halls again until she stood directly before her Gloucester. It was a magnificent sight, she'd thought, the purple of her knightmare's body and metallic limbs and the golden of her lance illuminating beneath the gleans of light. "Guilford, Darlton," Cornelia said, the tone in her voice changing immediately. They stood beside her now, mute and waiting. "Your Highness," her personal knight murmured.

"It's time." she said. They each climbed into their knightmare frames, and soon the Second Princess became enclosed in the cockpit of her Gloucester. "We are here for one reason," she spoke to Guilford over a private channel. "That is to wipe out every single damned Eleven that pose a threat in their God-forsaken rebellion. We will drive them out, the Japanese Liberation Front, by attacking what they hold dear, and they will rue the day that they were formed." She then spoke through an open channel so that all the men in her service heard her. "These terrorists will pay. Prince Clovis will know his vengeance! All hail Britannia!" This message was echoed throughout the Shinshiku base, but Cornelia's only reply came to be only one word. _"LAUNCH!"_

* * *

><p>THE LORD OF MIRACLES<p>

Kyoshiro Tohdoh sat within the Narita military base, with his Four Holy Swords beside him, his eyes closed. He wished for silence, and in return, the voices of Japanese Liberation Front members quarrelling filled his ears. Lieutenant Colonel Josui Kusakabe was arguing with the men about him. He aroused a frenzy within the ranks, even the greenest of soldiers heeding his cries for vengeance. "How dare they?!" he shouted to all the faces around him. His countenance was tailored by his fury; his teeth grit, his lips tightened into a frown, and his eyes... His eyes, normally dull and without lustre, became refined with the stain of red anger. "Thousands!" his roared from across the room. "Thousands! Thousands of men dead!"

Tohdoh knew from the moment Kusakabe opened his mouth what he spoke of. Yes, he thought, thousands of lives were lost. The Britannians destroyed the ghetto, killing everyone and everything in their path. But Kyoshiro could not think of them now, in their tyrannical rule and their new purple knightmare frames. The colonel thought only of the bodies that graced the earth, that watered the soil with their blood, and how, without proper burials, their souls were neglected of the embrace of the Kami. Yet, even this conception, however consuming, was easily replaced by the uproar caused by the Extremist Faction leader, Kusakabe.

"They're blaming us for the death of their Mazoku Prince!" He was on his feet now. "They killed our people out of revenge – but what about our revenge?!" His audience of soldiers cheered at those words. "While our people turn to carrion, his body lays in Britannia. Let it be that way, I say, as his body would pollute our earth if ever it touched our land with its blood!" Another cheer, and another and another.

"Vengeance!" someone shouted in the crowd of hungry men. "Death to the demons!" came another man.

By this time, Tohdoh had had enough. "And what do you expect to achieve your _vengeance_, Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe?" He said the word "vengeance" as if it disgusted him, though deep down, he knew not how he truly felt about the concept. He wanted freedom for his people, his country, but how far was he willing to go to get that? As of now, he gave himself no answer, and that, of everything that could induce such a thing, worried him. He gave no indication of this worry nonetheless, and remained as stoic as ever as he continued to speak. "What will you do? Will you kill as many Britannian citizens as they did the Japanese at Shinshiku?"

Kusakabe did not answer the question directly. "We must show the people that we have not lost our power – that the Japanese are still strong! We are not weak, and we will not bend!" was his words.

"And again, I ask you the same question: How do you expect to achieve this?"

"If we must kill the Brits we will! Every last one of them!" one of the soldiers that rallied to Kusakabe spoke out.

"Then you risk becoming the very tyrants we seek to demolish. The Britannian citizens, yes, they're the ones who oppress us, who discriminate against us, but they should not be our targets. You go after the people, and transform this army from a military front into a pack of slaughterers."

"So we should just wait until the Viceroy herself comes to our doorstep?!" a female voice shouted. For a moment, no one knew who spoke, but then a tall, slim figure came forth from the crowd. Kumori was her name, Kumori Urabe, the youngest sister of one of Tohdoh's very own holy blades, Kosestu Urabe. She bore a beautiful face, taken from her mother and not her father as Kosestu had, but that beauty was now impeded by her evident frustration. "You know fair well we ourselves would slaughtered on open battle!"

Tohdoh said nothing. He waited to see if Urabe would speak out against his sister, though the elite combatant said nothing,remaining quiet and distance as ever. "Perhaps," Tohdoh finally said. "But to me, that is the only way to free this country is to eliminate Princess Cornelia. Whoever assassinated Clovis did us a favour, and has now given us the chance to truly strike at the Britannian army. After all, the so-called Goddess of Victory is the soul and heart of the Britannian military..."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes: For this chapter, I have used PoVs simply to introduce the story. They may or may not appear in future chapters, but will focus mainly on the characters of the Japanese Liberation Front members. For now, chapters will revolve around what happened in the anime series but as the fanfic progresses, I hope to move away from these events. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Please tell me what you think and review!<p>

Next Chapter: Turn 1, Initiation


	2. Turn I: Initiation

Turn 1: Initiation

"_There are two Paths to the Innermost: the Way of the Mystic, which is the way of devotion and meditation, a solitary and subjective path; and the way of the occultist, which is the way of the intellect, of concentration, and of trained will; upon this path the co-operation of fellow workers is required, firstly for the exchange of knowledge, and secondly because ritual magic plays an important part in this work...The mystic derives his knowledge through the direct communion of his higher self with the Higher Powers; to him the wisdom of the occultist is foolishness, for his mind does not work in that way; but, on the other hand, to a more intellectual and extrovert type, the method of the mystic is impossible until long training has enabled him to transcend the planes of form. We must therefore recognize these two distinct types among those who seek the Way of Initiation, and remember that there is a path for each."_

—Excerpt from Esoteric Orders and Their Work and The Training and Work of the Initiate, Dion Fortune

* * *

><p>THE SHADOW<p>

Today had been the day Kumori had waited for her whole life, to be chosen as one of the leading knightmare squadron members. After seven harsh years, the JLF was finally ready to turn its men from sumerais into pilots of the electronic beasts created by the Holy Britannian Empire. They were finally going to give the Britannians a taste of their own medicine, and it would be done with their own creations. General Katase stood at the head of the base with a sheet in his hand. Her uncle glanced towards the eager men who stood close to him, and then to Kumori herself. When his gaze reached hers, it saddened. he smiled, though, as any uncle would his niece. It was in that moment, she knew.

Katase began reading out the names. "Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh," he started with the name of the very many everyone with a brain knew would be chosen. He was, as he always had been, Katase's right-hand man. Tohdoh stepped forward and bowed in his respect. "You now hold the position of Field Commander, the leader of our knightmare units, and from now on retains the title of General." Everyone clapped in that moment, most especially Shogo Asahina, the second member of the Four Holy Swords, who cheered as though it had come as a surprise to him to see his leader honoured for his valour. Kumori felt she should clap, but she hadn't been listening at all to what her uncle had been saying. The next few names were the names of the chosen squadron leaders to which there would only be five, and not one of them were hers.

For the longest time she stood still, watching the others around her. In their laughter and happiness, they celebrated those who had been honoured. Kumori smiled to those who looked at her, but she couldn't stay in the room any longer when she spotted her brother speaking to their uncle, both their gazes watching her. She walked out the room in a quickened pace, feeling as though she couldn't breathe past her anger. As a child she had longed for the chance to shine before her uncle, to show him that she was not just the little sister of his protege, that the house name of Urabe was not simply an extension to her inheritance, but that its strength was also in her blood and soul. And yet, she seemed to have clung to Kosetsu involuntarily, remaining forever in his shadow. He had been made the Leader of the Third Squadron, and she had been made nothing. It angered her to be given nothing, but her anger bordered between that and jealousy, the latter being the most likely feeling to possess her now.

"What's the matter, Little Urabe?" a voice asked her from behind, a voice filled with a deep sarcasm that made her even more angry. Kumori recognised this man the moment the first word left his lips. "It must be _so _frustrating with Kosetsu for a brother. While he and the rest of the heads of the Elitist Faction gets all the honours your uncle claims he deserves, you, a lost puppy, get nothing. Tell me, Kumori, how do you do it – live like a shadow?"

"What do you want, Meiwaku?!" she answered bitterly. She didn't have the strength and the time to deal with the extremist's insults. If Meiwaku was anybody's protege, he would be Kusakabe's, and even the thought was enough to put Kumori off balance.

He stood leaning his weight against the wall, his arms folded at his chest. He chuckled. "Same old, same old Little Urabe." he said. "Didn't the old man teach you _any _manners after the death of your parents?"

"Don't call me that!" Kumori snapped. She turned to face the man fully, stomping her foot down in the process. "And it's "General Katase" to you. You would do well not to insult him or his name; I may be the only one to hear your words in this moment, but karma will find its way to hit you." For all her anger, she disliked it when her uncle, her brother, or anyone she cared for, were being insulted. They were her family, and were due their rightful respect. "And you didn't answer my question, Meiwaku; what do you want?" she continued in an agitated tone.

"Oh I wished to taunt you for a while, that was what I wanted. But Kusakabe himself?" he shrugged as he paused. "I don't know what he wants from you. Perhaps he wishes to bond with you over the fact that neither of you were chosen for..._anything. _Not sure." There was that sarcasm again. "But he does want to see you. Sent me for you in fact." The soldier paused again, looking at Kumori. He was watching her face, she knew, but she would not give him any inclination to her confusion or surprise at the situation. She neither said nor did anything until Meiwaku began leading the way to Kusakabe's quarter, formally known as the Extremists' Quarter among the others that had earned the title "Elite".

It was dark in their quarter, with little light to brighten the halls along the way. Kumori felt a shiver flit down her spine. After all, Meiwaku was taking her to a part of the quarter she had never dared enter before now. The Extemists hardly ever left their quarter outside of when they needed to for training or military meetings, and it dawned on her suddenly, as she followed the male soldier through the darkened halls, how little of everything else she knew of the faction save their profound beliefs that rendered the JLF to the rest of the world as a terrorist cooperation.

When they arrived, Kumori saw that Kusakabe, along with some other members of his faction, sat in the lightest part of his quarter, discussing something among themselves. It at first took them a few moments to realise they had arrived, and when they finally did, they immediately stopped their conversation, each their dark eyes turning to Kumori, who stood in silence, saying nothing. Kusakabe was the first to speak. Though his stare remained on her, he spoke to Meiwaku. "Thank you for bringing First Lieutenant Urabe," he merely said. "That'll be all for now, Warrant Officer." With that, Meiwaku saluted his commanding officer and left.

As soon as he was gone, Urabe felt more out of place as she had originally, if that was even possible. "Meiwaku said you wanted to see me, Lieutenant Colonel."

He nodded, extending his arm. "Please take a seat," She did but not without hesitation. The man smiled at her, yet Kumori knew that such a smile did not reach his grey eyes. He wants something, she thought to herself. But what could that be; what is it that he needs from me? The questions raced though her mind along with other thoughts like how much she wanted to leave this place and return to the celebration at the main Common Room. "I trust you were at the meeting this morning," Kusakabe began, breaking the silence that she only just realised had formed in the time she let her mind take over her.

"Yes," she replied quickly.

He kindly offered her green tea but she politely declined. He stepped away from her and walked to glance through the window. They were at the heart of Narita, nothing but the vast landscape before them and the dim lights of the sleeping village down below. "Do you know that in our ancient society, our powerful ancestors, the Sumerais, they believed in upholding the honour of the family through the practise of revenge killings, _katakiuchi." _His voice was solemn now. There was nothing of the kindness he had shown her in those earlier moment._ "_These killings would eliminate not only those who had offended, but also those belonging the them." He turned from the window. "Are the Japanese citizens not our family?" Kusakabe asked, his face tightened in his increasing anger. "And if so, then it is fair to say that the Britannians are the ones who offend us."

"Where are you going with this, Lieutenant Colonel?" Urabe asked, confused.

"You and I both were slighted with no honours today. But you are a daughter of the great house of Urabe; Katase has made a grave mistake in ignoring you. And me? What of my faction? They received nothing for their loyalty." He sat down again and placed a hand on Kumori's shoulder. "But we don't need honours and titles to do what's right for our nation, for Japan, do we? We, regardless of our rank, must fight for those who need us, for those in Shinshiku for instance." he said that last bit as though the thought crossed his mind conveniently. "Your uncle thwarts on the thought of knightmare frames and which of his men should be allowed to pilot them, refusing to acknowledge that _they,_ our family at Shinshiku need their vengeance."

"_Katakiuchi."_

"Yes. He fails to realise that he has a very skilled niece. But I have not," Kusakabe reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a photo of a young Britannian women. She was young, with bright green eyes like emeralds, and long blonde hair. Kusakabe said nothing about the girl, but looked directly at Kumori. "I believe you can do something for me..."

* * *

><p>THE LORD OF MIRACLES<p>

The sun's shine just rose past the Narita Mountains' summit, painting the sky with the colours of pink and purple and orange. Deep within the heart of the mountain where the Japanese Liberation Front's military base lay, Kyoshiro walked the halls after waking into the new day. He seldom slept past seven nowadays, not with all his needed training. Tohdoh believed that it was not enough to become a great swordsman, the art of the katana as if second nature, but that you must also practise everyday the skill to remain the man you had once strove to become. The only thing different about today was that he wasn't the only one awake at this time. Tohdoh could hear in the distance the other members of the JLF training. This day was not only for the training of current members, but also for the training of new ones who had recently joined the army. They were to be initiated, pushed to the limit, fought against to see how well they fought themselves.

In the Training Ground, the floor was covered with mats. Half of the recruits, both current and new, were sent outside to test fitness. They were led and goaded by the newly decreed Captain Urabe. Out of all his Four Holy Swords, Kosetsu was the fittest, being tall and lean but built with a lot of muscle. He, Tohdoh thought, was the perfect candidate to push soldiers to their limits; Asahina was far too laid back, taking the idea as a matter of fun rather than seriousness. Chiba was as fit as Urabe, perhaps even more intimidating than he was in getting the men to surpass their limits, but she held a..."_hot_-_headed_" temperament, as Shogo Asahina had once put it. Kyoshiro chuckled inside at the thought. The fourth and final member of his Four Holy Swords was instead in the Training Ground working one-on-one with the new recruits along with Shogo. As most people didn't know how to use a katana, the pair both decided to split their groups into two, one group being made of those who could practise with swords, and the other being made up of those who would work off their ability to fight with no weapons but their hands and feet.

"Now," Tohdoh called for everyone's attention. The Lord of Miracles stood upon a raised platform, looking down at all the different faces. "You must all be wondering why we are testing your ability to fight, your fitness. We are getting Knightmare frames now, so why must we fight you may ask. Soldiers," he said this as he looked across the scene at the hundreds before him. He paused on each of their faces for a little while before moving onto the next. Some were young and fresh-faced, though he felt that would change soon, if not by the intensive training, then by war itself. Some of these faces were faces he had once thought never to see at all. "It is important that we do not forget that we are _men_ fighting this war. We are not just the machines we control, and so _must_ be able to fight. We will never know when a man's – or a woman's..." Tohdoh looked at Chiba at that moment, "...strength will be needed after all." And so he set his men off.

From his spot he watched Chiba. Around her rallied all the different men of her group. He knew just by studying their body language that some of them doubted Chiba's ability. She was a women, and many men still believed war to be a place where women never belonged.

"A volunteer," she called out for. She found one in the first few moments. The recruit had a crooked handsomeness, with deep brown eyes that were surprisingly pretty as well as dark auburn hair held back by a simple headband of the same colour. Though he slouched, the man was fairly tall with a small build. Too skinny, Tohdoh thought as he watched him emerge from the crowd to step before his holy blade. But he restrained himself from passing any judgement too early, and watched carefully over the scene. "Name," Chiba asked for.

"Shinichiro," he said, grinning. "Shinichiro Tamaki." He held himself with an air of arrogance, and yet it took one look from Tohdoh to know that he was green.

"Tamaki," She gave him a bow as she replied. Chiba did not take this chance to change her stance, but remained stood still and tall. Despite this, she asked him, "Are you ready?" Tamaki made no reply other than to place his right foot in front of his left, bending his knees slightly and shifting his body to face sideways from Chiba. He extended one arm a fair distance before him, and with his fingers clenched into fists, he left the other close to his face. It was a typical form to take in this sort of fight, but it was weak. "Are you ready?" Nagisa repeated. In those moments before the fight begun, the room fell into a silence. Even Asahina and his group had stopped to look forth onto the battle that was now about to commence.

Tamaki was the first to strike, aiming high. He forced his right fist to Chiba's face, but she simply dodged the blow. This continued for a few more attempts before Chiba no longer dodged, but directly blocked Takaki's punch; she held his fist in her fingers, unwilling to let go. In trying to break free from her hold, Tamaki launched his leg for her chest. He scarcely missed her but she spun away from him just as the force came for her. Tohdoh watched as she did this, thinking she was fought in a completely different style to what he had first expected those years ago in their first encounter. She moved swiftly, gracefully, choosing to dodge rather than to counter-attack. He thought of her almost as a dancer, combining the art with that of combat, which Kyoshiro, of all the times he studied his men, had never anticipated. He had underestimated Nagisa Chiba immensely. Only now did he think back to that day...

_Their wooden blades collided in the space between them, creating a friction that bound Kyoshiro from making any further attacks without having to pull away first. And so, he did just that. Breathing heavily and sweating profoundly, he looked forth to his opponent and gave him a smile, something he gave out rarely. "You are losing your touch, Tatewaki Katase," Kyoshiro said, trying to calm his breathing. _

"_Aye," the older man breathed. "I'm growing old, Tohdoh." At first, Kyoshiro believed his remark to have upset his master, but that thought changed as he saw a grin form across Katase's face. "But I'm not done yet," he continued, driving his wooden blade towards Tohdoh to which he blocked just in time. He pushed Tatewaki away, and in response to the distance created between them, he swung his weapon to the senior's side. He would have hit the man's ribs if it had not been for Tatewaki's quick reflexes who used his own blade for his protection. Their fight continued on this way for what seemed like hours, swing after swing, dodge after dodge and collision after collision. This was until Tohdoh swung his wooden blade to Katase's head, and, knowing that the older man would jerk backwards in attempt to salvage his face, Tohdoh kicked his foot into his broad chest, forcing him back a few steps. _

_Tatewaki laughed at this. He looked as though he were about to attack again, but was stopped by the intrusion of one of the other men of newly formed Japanese Liberation Front. "Colonel Katase," the man saluted before continuing. "New recruits in the Training Ground!" _

"_Thank you," Katase replied. "We'll be there in a few moments." _

_When they arrived at the scene, the place was filled with men and women alike, each wearing the simple attire of white and grey vests and sweats. "Grab a wooden blade, everyone." This was the first thing he called out to the new men and women. He did not even introduce himself, likely because someone had already done so for him, but Kyoshiro knew that he himself believed that a simple name would not give someone their authority, they must also show it. Once every man held in their hands a wooden blade, Tatewaki placed a hand on Kyoshiro's back. "This is Captain Kyoshiro Tohdoh. Be sure to remember his name. And if not, remember him for his other name: The Man of Miracles." This ignited a frenzy among the people, who were both excited and amazed to stand before the hero of Itsukushima. "He will be the one sparring with you today," Katase said cheerfully, patting Tohdoh on the back again."Who will be the first to fight?" _

_There was no reply at first. Had all the excitement suddenly turned to fear of the man? Kyoshiro did not know. He then thought to pick on someone, but from the crowd came forward a lone soldier. "I will." they said._

_To both Kyoshiro's and Tatewaki's surprise, the voice belonged to a woman. Tohdoh looked forth to the one who spoke. She had a slender figure, slim and tall for a woman. She had a fringe that levelled at her eyes, her shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely in a ponytail. Aside from that, it was her eyes that caught Kyoshiro's attention. They were of an unnatural colour; brown at first glance, like any other woman of Japanese lineage, but beneath the glint of light, her eyes became a deep red, too dark to be crimson, but not the right shade to be auburn. As he looked into them, he realised that it was not only their unnatural beauty that intrigued him, but also the look in her eyes that did so. She stared at him, with no less than determination, and it was with this determination that her raw power was channelled. She continuously dodged Tohdoh's blows, spinning and twirling around him as she did so before striking with first her blade that she held loosely in her fingers, and then with her limbs. She'd either kick or throw a punch at the captain, and just as Tohdoh was knocked off balance, she attempted a final strike. But it was because of this the woman lost. She shifted to strike, to finish the battle, leaving her centre undefended. Tohdoh saw his chance and forced his foot into her stomach, pushing her to ground, and with his own blade, he beat hers from her grasp. It fell to the ground with a clank. _

_Lowering his sword so that it pointed to her neck, the lord of miracles spoke. "Is she one of yours?" he asked, turning to his old friend who he'd noticed to be sitting by Katase as the fight went on. _

"_She sure is," Ryoga Senba answered proudly._

_Kyohsiro extended his hand out to the fallen woman. "I underestimated you when I shouldn't have. My apologies..."_

"_...Nagisa." she finished, taking his hand and smiling. _

"Welcome to the Japanese Liberation Front." said Chiba, who pulled Tamaki from the ground.

"She has grown a lot in the last seven years, Kyoshiro." Katase joined him on the platform, and he too looked down upon the scene Chiba was apart of.

"She has, I agree. But that isn't what you came here for, is it, General Katase? You wanted to speak to me, but not about my men." Tohdoh turned to look at his commanding officer. "I've known you long enough to realise that."

"Aye," the general replied. "As you know, your Four Holy Swords along with another chosen member of the JLF have been selected to become squadron leaders. Today's training session was not to outline who will be part of which quarter or faction, but in fact who will become a member of those squadrons I intend for your men to lead. Today is not only these men's initiation into the Japanese Liberation Front, but also, for at least a select handful, their initiation into being knightmare pilots."

"You choose now to start our counter-attack, General?" Tohdoh asked.

"Yes," It was all he said for a little while. Perhaps he was thinking of what to say, Tohdoh did not truly know, but this thought was displaced as Katase spoke out once more. "There is growing friction between the E.U and the Britannians. If we don't strike now, when they are busy dealing with the Europeans, then this war will never end. We will have our own knightmares, and our own men who will pilot them." Katase looked back down on the men below, and Tohdoh followed his gaze. Then, after another moment's silence, he said the words Kyoshiro had longed to hear for years. "Japan will see its salvation soon." was what the general said, and for the first time, Tohdoh believed them to be true.

* * *

><p>THE FOURTH HOLY SWORD<p>

Nagisa Chiba had finally finished with her group of recruits. It had taken hours to get through them all, fighting them while giving them critique, but it was over now. She was giving orders for them all to return to their bunks to rest for the night when she heard someone clapping. It was Asahina. "Finally done?" he chuckled, knowing full well the answer. He was sat on one of the side benches watching the crowd disperse, but he slouched against the wall with his hands behind his head as if he had been there all day, waiting.

"I had a bigger group than you," Chiba defended, smiling at her ally and friend.

"I had to fight with a katana," Shogo shrugged. "It's harder to beat someone with a weapon than to beat someone without one."

"Are you saying I'm a better fighter than you are a swordsman?" Nagisa joked. She herself was beginning to laugh, but she saw a change in her friend's face. The cheerfulness seemed to drain from his face, his smile fading. Chiba also sensed a change in the atmosphere, but she remained silent out of a fear of disrupting it. But there had been no need for her to speak, as the silence was broken anyway with the opening of the door. The captain turned to where the noise had come from and spotted a teenager standing alone in the distance.

"A Britannian!" one of the new recruits that had lingered in the Training Ground shouted.

Even from afar, Chiba could see the fiery red hair and shocking blue eyes, but while her recruits felt an immediate disdain for the girl, she didn't know what she felt. There was no anger in her, but Chiba didn't feel happy either at the sight of her. "What are you doing here?" she asked her over the shouts of her men.

The red-headed girl did not answer her question, but looked to the very man that had called her Britannian. "I'm not a Britannian," she stated firmly. "I may look like one but I'm not. I'm Japanese." At this, another burst of shouts came. Some called out, "Liar!" and others just laughed. Even in Chiba's point of view, it seemed unlikely that this girl was anything other than Britannian. Perhaps European, but not Japanese. She breathed before continuing, the frustration evident on her face. "Look, I came for recruitment. If there's no place for me..." She turned and began walking away.

"There's room," Chiba called. She waited for her to turn back around before speaking again. "You may be a Britannian, you may be Japanese. It doesn't matter." Nagisa looked directly into the girl's blue eyes when she said that, making sure that she knew that she meant her words. "You came here to fight for Japan, and that's all that counts." Chiba thought to continue, but something stopped her. Where she thought that this girl had been looking directly at her, she had been looking somewhere else. The Fourth Holy Sword followed her gaze, and found that she had been instead looking at Asahina. He, in response, whose face remained serious and solemn, returned that gaze.

"Shogo Asahina," Nagisa introduced her fellow captain. But something told her that there had been no need, that she, whoever this girl was, already knew the identity of her friend. Chiba now introduced herself, stating her name and position.

The girl smiled slightly. "Kallen Kozuki," she said.

* * *

><p>THE BRITANNIAN<p>

As part of the security of the Lake Kawaguchi Hotel Centre, Thompson sat in the headquarters, watching the surveillance. He saw nothing out of the ordinary so far but he couldn't ever be too sure. And today was an important day, so he had to be extra careful today. Lake Kawaguchi was a very famous Britannian tourist spot, and on this day, it was also the site of the Annual Summit of the Sakuradite Producing Countries. Many important representatives from all the different countries came to Area 11 for this meeting, one of them being Chairman James, the Britannian in charge of the Sakurradite allocatione. Thompson not only watched the screen in front of him, but also the others around him, even though there were others watching them as well.

Everything was fine. Or so he thought.

"Helena!" Thompson heard security member Richard shout. He always seemed happy to see the woman, Thompson had noted one day whilst on duty, and today was no different. Richard smiled as he usually did and embraced the woman. His behaviour did not seem out of the ordinary, but... "Helena...?" Richard murmured, pulling away from her. She said nothing in return, and only remained silence as if she had become mute. "What's wrong?" the security member continued to ask, but still he received no response. She simply looked around. Her eyes paused on each and every one of their faces as if she were memorizing them, or as if... As if she did not even recognise the people around her.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Samantha, the coffee girl asked, her concern evident on her face. She touched Helena's shoulder lightly with her hand. But, as if disgusted by the sentiment, Helena quickly shifted from Samantha's touch, drawing out a gun.

Thompson had not been watching the scene, but too busy watching his screen, and yet he could see everything. On the surveillance screen reflected the image of Helena holding a gun to Samantha's head. For a moment, it seemed all surreal. At on point Thompson thought himself dreaming. Helena was one of the sweetest and kindest person he knew; she would never hold someone at gunpoint unless it was absolutely necessary. Yet...Thompson did not understand. Slowly turning to the woman, he held his hand in the air. "C'mon now," he started. "You're mad. Something's made you mad. But we can talk about that, just put the gun down." He said the last words slowly, hoping they would reach her somehow.

For a while it stayed quiet, and Thompson thought that maybe she had listened. A feeling of relief crossed his senses, but that all disappeared just as quickly as it came as he stared into the barrel of the gun. Thompson jumped back. He had his hands pressed down on the desk behind him. It was as though that was all that was keeping him up; he had never been held at gunpoint before. And then Helena spoke, but it wasn't her voice he heard. The voice he heard was of a different woman, with a very thick Japanese accent. "I want everyone to move to stand over there," She pointed to the far left of the room, away from all the surveillance and computers and any communicative devices. No one moved at first, caught frozen in their fear, and this only added to the anger in the woman's voice. "_Now!" _her voice roared, pointing the gun away from Thompson and to the others in the room.

Everyone did as she bid then. When she spotted Thompson moving to follow them, her eyes darted back to him. "Not you," she stated. "You stay there." He looked into her eyes at this moment. This woman looked so much like Helena – she had her long flowing blonde hair, her emerald-green eyes – and yet she was not her. What happened to you? Those were the words on his mind. But "Why are you doing this to us?" was what he said aloud. "You're Brit—"

"No!" she interrupted. With her other hand, she pulled at the top of her head, pulling away the blonde wig and revealing a mop of dark blue hair. Then, using her long white fingers, she pressed at her cheeks until the mask detached from her face. She was indeed no Britannian. She was Japanese.

"_An Eleven!_" Samantha screamed whilst Richard shouted out, "Call the Head!" One of the other members ran for their phone once this was said, handling it with fumbling fingers. They dropped the phone unfortunately, and they dived to retrieve it. Their fingers were inches from achieving this when another man, wearing a black mask over his face kicked the phone from arms reached. "Wrong move," he said bitterly, stamping on the man's fingers.

"Another...Eleven...?" Thompson asked. This one was much more violent than the first. Unlike the woman, he did not hold a simple handgun, but a rifle with which he pushed the end into Thompson's neck. This is it, the Britannian thought. This is it. He shut his eyes, waiting. He did not have to watch to know that the male Eleven began to aim the barrel of his weapon. Thompson must have heard at least a dozen shots. Perhaps that was the sound of him dying, he unconvincingly told himself. But he felt no pain, for the bullets were not aimed for him. He was not the initial target. His colleagues were. When he realised this, he screamed at the sight of their blood painting the floor with its thick red lustre.

"You didn't have to kill them!" the female screamed at her partner.

He said nothing to her, but continued to look into Thompson's eyes. "You're going to turn off all the lights in here." he said, moving his aim from the Britannian's chest to in between his eyes. "You're going to make it all go black. Do you understand?" As if to force the answer from Thompson's lips, the Eleven pressed his barrel harder into his head. He squinted as he nodded. "Make it go black!" he repeated, and Thompson did. All the lights in the hotel were turned off. Everything turned to darkness; the surveillance footage, the lights in the hallways, in the different rooms; and then, after one final shot of the gun, even Thompson's mind as well.

* * *

><p>THE SECOND HOLY SWORD<p>

Though Tokyo was the capital of Japan, Asahina saw few Japanese people. He looked about him through his dark sunglasses. Along with this, he wore an oversized coat, its collars long enough to cover the sides of his face, a hat, a scarf and carried a large basket in his right hand. He wouldn't risk being caught back in Tokyo, and it seemed neither would anyone else. He saw no one around he could call Japanese. And by law, he couldn't. They were all called Elevens now, and Asahina found it all the more ironic that, because of this, they were all stripped of their nationality. But it was by their nationality they were degraded and mistreated. There was a part of him that felt relieved to see no one Japanese. He had seen, throughout the last seven years Japan was under the rule of Britannia, many being kicked and abused, shouted at for the simple fact of lineage. But his relief soon grew into sadness as he drew closer to the Aoyama Cemetery. Even from the outside Shogo saw the place had been ruined. Perhaps by Britannian teenagers who had been bored or had nothing to do, he did not know, but it was ruined all the same.

There was a dirt path that cut straight through the graveyard. Before he continued down the path though, he stopped and looked to the ground beneath his feet. I remember that you were once sandy yellow, he thought. It sounded pathetic, Asahina told himself, but he could not help but think them. The last time I visited granny, you were yellow, the voice in the back of his mind continued regardless. And now, you are grey and littered with rubbish. He kicked a piece of old newspaper into the air with his foot. It tore in the wind into smaller pieces it was that old.

Finally, he walked the old pathway. While he did this, he looked at the gravestones on each side. They were in a worse state than the land itself, having been vandalised. On one grave he saw two long lines marked out in red spray-paint. To anyone else outside of Japan and Britannia, they would have seen the marks as being somewhat random, but what Asahina saw was far different. "11" was what he saw. It angered him to see this done. A grave was to memorialise the dead, something of great sacred value in Japan, and yet it was made the subject of abuse just as those still living were.

He knelt by the gravestone, brushing the dead leaves and weeds away. Each Japanese gravestone was made of three main components; the top had engraved on it the name of the deceased; below that was written things about the person; and at the very base stood two flower vases to each side of the grave, a small incense holder at the front. Asahina tried to make out the name engraved but the symbols had been scratched out. Shrunken and brown, the flowers had long died, along with the Japanese tradition of honouring the dead. Just one look at the state of the gravestone and Shogo could see that it had been a long time since anyone had visited. But he couldn't blame his people. Even he hadn't returned for years. This was because of his duty, to the army and to Tohdoh, and as for his people, they were frightened. A Japanese person walking through the Tokyo Settlement, where many Britannian civilians lived and worked, were either insane or asking for death. Asahina liked to think he was neither, but he wasn't sure all the same.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Shogo made it to _his_ grave. It stood at the top of a hill beneath a beautiful cherry-blossom tree. As he drew closer, it was as though the sight was bathed in sunlight, beams of orange and pink light gracing the stone. He pulled from his basket everything he needed. Firstly, he brought out the water and a small bucket. Normally the cemetery provided the water in small fountains, but they had long run dry. Then, he brought out a small white cloth, incense, a lighter to light them with, and finally, the flowers. Taking the cloth, Asahina dipped it into the water until it was completely soaked, the cold of the liquid touching his hand. He wiped the gravestone gently, letting the water drip. No matter what condition it was in, good or bad, the stone had to be cleaned. Cleansed. Once he had done that, he lit the incense, placing them in their holder at the front, and then carefully placed his flowers in their vases. They were blue and red, the colours Asahina remembered to be this person's favourite.

He didn't know how long he sat there for. Minutes? Hours? But he did so in silence. In all honestly, he didn't know what to say. It had been years since his last visit, and yet Shogo Asahina still hadn't the courage to speak. His words would mean nothing, he told himself, and that would've been even worse than if he _had _spoken. He opened his mouth nonetheless to say something, anything. But the words did not come, and when they finally did, his voice was replaced by another.

"It has been a long time, Shogo, since you've visited my son's grave." he heard a woman with a soft voice say from behind him. He turned. "So long I thought you'd forgotten. Six years, it's been."

"Yes," was Asahina's only reply at first. Like before, he didn't know what to say. He stood up and smiled at the woman. It _had _been long, too long. But she remained very much the same as she had been; she had not changed in Asahina's mind. "It's lovely to see you again, Mrs Kozuki..."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes: Hope you enjoyed this, my Christmas present to all my fellow readers! Please review. I'd like to know what you think so far. Thank youuu!<p> 


	3. Turn 2: Deception

Turn 2: Deception, The Second Side of Vengeance

"_Vengeance, retaliation, retribution, revenge are deceitful brothers; vile, beguiling demons promising justifiable compensation to a pained soul for his losses. Yet in truth they craftily fester away all else of worth remaining."_

—Excerpt from The Tarishe Curse, Richelle E. Goodrich

THE THIRD HOLY SWORD

It had been a long time since he had been here. Nothing had changed much. It was as though it had been only yesterday when he last came, but, as he scanned the room around him, he realised that there was one thing that _had _changed, something so small anyone ordinary would not notice missing, yet something so precious that it hurt to see it gone. Asahina was trying so hard to avoid her gaze. Instead, he focussed on the television that played quietly in the background. For now, he didn't want to speak, or rather he didn't know what to say; he'd rather suffer the silence than to risk the chance at talking like it had been those years ago.

Mrs Kozuki spoke out anyway. "Kallen would be happy to see you again," she said, pouring him a cup of tea. She was smiling sadly he could see, but kept her eyes on the cup before her, never looking towards him as he tried never to do with her. The words surprised him more than he expected. Asahina let them play through his mind a few more times before the thought came to his mind; Mrs Kozuki knew nothing of what her daughter had been doing, or what she was getting herself into. "It's been so long after all since..." her words trailed off. Mrs Kozuki's eyes looked almost hysterical at the thought of having let that slip. "She'd love to talk to you again..." she settled on after a long pause.

Talking. It seemed so simple to talk, but why was he finding it so hard to find the words?

"Where is she now, Kallen?" he asked. He decided the silence had stayed too long, and though the words came from his lips stumbling, Shogo allowed himself to speak.

"She should be on her way home by now," Mrs Kozuki replied, somewhat happier. "School finished almost an hour ago. They have dorms for the students, but it's a holiday and she promised she'd come and visit." It relieved Shogo to hear that Kallen was back in school for some reason. It was what he had wanted to for her; it had been what _he _had wanted to for her, Naoto. He only wondered now how it would last. Whether he liked it or not, Kallen was apart of the Japanese army now, and soon there would be no more time for school. Gym classes would be replaced by intensive training, computing by knightmare piloting practise, the ringing bells to signal the beginning of the next lesson by the sound of alarms. No, it would not last, and that worried him.

"She's doing so well," he heard Kallen's mother say. "Just like you and her brother. Straight A's." Her face was beaming with a glow of pleasure, but then her lips recoiled back into a linear position. "Although, she has been skipping classes lately..." She let the topic hang for a while, perhaps hoping Shogo would say something to somehow comfort her. But he said nothing. He forced himself not to, for he knew that if he should, his words would be no more than lies. And so, their conversation turned to the silence again. It was married to the night it seemed, that quietness, almost impenetrable that Asahina perceived it as a miracle when the door opened with a quiet creak that broke it all.

A young girl with red hair like fire stepped into the Kozuki home. Her eyes were of a shock blue yet he did not see the full extent of their intensity until she looked directly into his eyes. When she noticed Asahina, there was a mixture of confusion and irritation among those irises. Kallen said nothing at first. She plopped her school bag onto a nearby seat, letting it sag as she let the handle go, and placed one small kiss on her mother's cheek. At first glance, she was every bit her father, a Britannian, but her temperament was most certainly Japanese.

"What are _you _doing here?" The emphasis on the "you" made it clear to Shogo that she was not pleased to see him here and though she made no clear movement to get me out of her house, Asahina felt her foreboding presence emit from her skin into the air surrounding her. He said nothing in reply to the question she had previously asked as he figured that, when she looked towards her mother to perhaps question her with her sharp gaze, she'd already worked out the reason behind his intrusion here.

"We were just speaking of you, Kallen." her mother said happily.

Perhaps she believed if you continued to break the awkward silence that constantly reformed it would somehow break completely, the tension eventually thawing. Though it didn't seem to be doing anything. Kallen remained on edge, and her mother's words only added to her sudden anxiety. Her blue eyes grew wide and she looked directly towards Asahina who said, "We were just speaking of how well you are doing in school, how proud we are of you. You must study a lot in your free time," The latter he added to signify that he had not betrayed her, that Mrs Kozuki remained in her ignorance.

Kallen let her guard drop after that. After a while in silence, she opened her mouth to speak, but her attention had been diverted. Grabbing the remote to turn the volume up on the television, the student's eyes grew wide, a synthesis of both surprise and confusion forming in her irises. At first, Asahina didn't know what had made Kallen this way, but as he listened to the Britannian news reporter on the screen, he followed the girl into shock.

"...the hoteljackers have identified themselves as the Japan Liberation Front..." the reporter said. Asahina had been useless with English from the moment he had been forced to learn the language, but he didn't need to be Britannian to understand the extremity of the reporter's words. He had heard the words "hoteljackers" and "Japan Liberation Front" and every other thought came into place. Images of death filled his mind. He missed the reporter's next few words but caught her saying, "...hostages as well as several tourists and hotel employees." The Holy Sword looked towards Kallen, and then to her mother. He did not see _their _faces, though, he saw Kusakabe's and Meiwaku's along with the faces of the rest of Extremist Faction and his blood began to boil.

"This footage was taken by the perpetrators," It began playing in the background as the reporter continued to speak. "In it you can clearly see Chairman James including some students." There shown on screen was a group of people, knelt on the ground in surrender, their hands held to the back of their heads. The Britannian man in the suit, Asahina presumed, was the Chairman they spoke of. Beside him sat three young ladies. Asahina felt nothing but pity towards them, but he could feel no more as he did not know them, and yet Kallen rose from her seat with a sharp cry. "The student council," she whispered to herself though loud enough for Asahina to hear.

"As for the identity of the leader of this hijacking, that remains unknown. All that is certain is they are Elevens and that they wear the insignia of the JLF, the old flag of the nation once called Japan, on their arms." _Kusakabe! _he thought.

In that moment Kallen ran upstairs. She came back down as quickly as she had gone and grabbed her school bag with both hands. Tipping all her books out, she stuffed something thick and green inside. Her gaze shifted to her comrade. "We have to go," The words stubmled from her lips quick and thoughtlessly. She had said this to her mother though her eyes had remained fixed on Asahina. "I promised some friends I'd come get them," This time she turned to her mother who looked confused. "Shogo says he'll walk me out so I'm not on my own,"

Mrs Kozuki opened her mouth to perhaps voice argument, but her cheeks were cupped by Kallen's hands. She kissed her mother on her right cheek, but throwing her bag over her shoulder and hauling Asahina through the front door by the sleeve. When they reached Shogo's pick-up truck, he pulled the girl to one side. He said nothing – there was nothing to say – and just looked at her. Kallen chucked her bag through the open window, and repeated firmly, "I _promised _some friends I'd come get them." As in she promised herself that she would somehow save her friends and still live to tell the tale. She opened the car door and took her seat in the passenger seat.

* * *

><p>THE FOURTH HOLY SWORD<p>

When her general had spoken to her, she'd wished it to have been some sort of dream. A dream that distorted reality, made it cruel and brutal. But this life, that she hoped deep down to be unreal, _was _real, and ever the more harrowing. Nagisa paced through the halls, knocking on each of the doors. Every time a different face appeared before her, whether it be young or old, slim or full. But they were not the faces the female soldier wished to see. Chiba wanted to see _her _dark eyes peering into her, _her _slim form turn up in front of her, _her _head of the blue hair that tumbled down her shoulders and framed her youthful countenance. Chiba felt that it would be then, and then only, that her heart would settle and her mind would return back still. For now, she stepped against the beat in her centre. It echoed through her thoughts like a drum, growing quicker and quicker as she grew more anxious.

"This is Captain Chiba," she stated formally at the next door she knocked on. It was Kozuki's door. When there was no answer she Nagisa knocked again, hitting her knuckles against the the hard surface. Today had been Kallen's day off, but she should have returned to her room by now. It was protocol, that every soldier should return to their own chamber by midnight, and that time had long passed, yet still, there was no answer. Turning the knob, Chiba stepped inside. "Kallen," she said. "I just want to ask you if you've seen..." She let her words trail into silence after she realised that she was alone. She had never expected to see that Kallen was not in her room; the girl seemed dutiful, unconditionally bound to the ties between her and her country, and the Fourth Holy Sword had spoken into the room as if it had not been empty.

The darkness consumed Nagisa. The only trace of light crept through the narrow gap between door and ground, but even that was feint and minute in comparison to the despotic blackness she faced. "The scariest place to be is in the darkness, child." Chiba recalled her grandmother once whisper to her when the night seemed at its zenith. "Shadows and ghosts come out to play in the dark, and they're not always those from the dead." Her granny had smiled ominously then as though she herself bore an _oni _deepwithin her. Shadows and ghosts, Chiba thought. _Kage_ and y_urei. _If she were still a child, Chiba believed that this would frighten her. But this was not the source of her fear. No. She feared something else that was not the darkness.

Nagisa moved towards the cupboard at the side of the room and, wrapping her fingers around the two handles, she opened it. She ruammged through Kozuki's clothes. Her JLF uniform was not there. _"Damn it!"_ Chiba exclaimed, thinking of the worst. Searching through Kallen's clothes again, the thought of her having accidentally missed the uniform crossed her mind. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Kallen was not where she thought she was. But that thought remained a thought, untrue and not reality.

Chiba was about to leave the room when something small fell from the clutter that had become of Kozuki's clothes. It dropped to the ground with a quiet thud, small, a dirty white and worn. It was a small photo, folded three times over. Nagisa looked at the scene depicted on the picture. To anyone else, they would see a small girl with the brightest of hair and big blue eyes like diamonds smiling at the people around her. They would see two other boys stood beside her, both lean and skinny. Chiba knew at once who they both were; she unconsciously said their names in her mind as she brushed her fingers against the worn and old picture. One bore a quietude in his features, his eyes calm and collected and captivating to the point where Chiba felt that he looked directly into her through the photo. The other was slightly shorter, though still tall, and grinned a goofy smile. She recognised these eyes...and yet she didn't. She had never seen such happiness in Asahina's eyes; it saddened her.

Stuffing the picture inside her back pocket, Chiba finally left Kallen's room. The light of the hallway seemed warm and welcoming compared to the darkness she had come from. She stood there still for a while. First she looked at her feet at the ground, thinking. She was always thinking nowadays. Then, as she lifted her head, Chiba shifted, and made her way to another door. Though she felt there had been no point, she knocked. "Kumori," she murmured. Nagisa opened the door almost immediately after that as, for some reason that was unknown to her, she felt inside that the young Urabe was not in her room like she should have been. Perhaps it was the fact that she had found Kallen missing, that lead her to no longer expect what she should have from her comrades.

Like she did Kallen's, Chiba entered Kumori's room. It was empty.

What were you thinking, Kumori? What were you thinking? she asked. There was no way for her to hear Chiba's words, that was impossible, but if anyone should hear those thoughts, she'd hoped it would be the _Kami. _She wished He – if you could call such a being a "He" – would hear her words and no longer allow anymore his faithful followers to turn from him and follow the dark path. She herself was growing impatient for the one they called "God" grew colder and colder everyday.

"Chiba," a voice said to the soldier, breaking her from her thoughts. Senba. She turned the moment she realised he had entered the room. He had, like her, had been ordered by Generals Katase and Tohdoh to search the base for Kumori Urabe. Rumours of her role in the recent terrorist attack against the Britannians had spread like wildfire among the ranks and it was important that high command had either refuted the idea completely, or indeed confirmed it. He looked to her as she did him, and Chiba knew just in that second the answer to that question.

He looked apologetic as well as confused, apologetic to the fact that he had disturbed her. "I'm sorry," he refrained from telling Chiba any news, saying as though his regretful face had not been enough. Her smile urged him to continue. "Tamaki told me that you were searching this hall. Did you find her?"

Chiba looked at the empty bed. "No," she said, flatly. "I didn't. You?"

"I'm afraid not." He followed her gaze.

"Kallen isn't in her room either." added the younger. When she looked into Senba's face, the way his features slowly morphed into a meld to two things, shock and worry, she realised that he had come to the same conclusion that she first had. "Do you think she is with Kumori?"

"I don't know what I think," Chiba interrupted. The thought of Kumori not being in the base, the thought of her being apart of the Lake Kawaguchi Hotel takeover alone frightened her. Added to that the possibility that Kallen may have been with her... She shook her head. "No," that was all she said for a while. "It's almost certain that Kumori is at that hotel, but there's no way we can know if Kallen is with her. For now we relay this information to General Katase and he'll decide from there what we should do." Senba nodded in his reply; he seemed convinced by her words and was confident that Kallen had never been apart of the terrorist attack. Chiba envied such a feeling. And if the new JLF soldier was indeed linked to the boy in the photo – the boy whose calm eyes had made the memory of _that _day almost implausible – Nagisa no longer knew what Kallen was capable of.

* * *

><p>THE SHADOW<p>

The icy wind whipped her fine hair around her face, the gusts swirling around her body as though the winter air embraced and enveloped her in all its divine piercing glory. Tonight was a starless night. Kumori expected nothing less; if stars were truly meant to be the thousand eyes of the _Kami,_ it would seem right that they had closed shut or turned away from them completely. They were sinners after all. _She _was a sinner.

When she heard of Meiwaku's orders, Kumori had run from storage room where the hostages had been kept straight to the sight where he would commit his next great sin. In her mind, she hadn't a clue of what she could have done to stop such an act from following through, she only knew that she at least had to bear witness to the death of an innocent. Perhaps that would be her penance for turning her back on God, to watch a man die as she had all those in Shinjuku Ghetto, to live with the guilt of spilling the blood of someone whose blood should have never been spilt.

She had run onto the roof, only to be held back by two other JLF soldiers, struggling and failing in her attempt to free herself from their stone grasp. When she had finally freed at least one of her arms, she had fought for the other to be freed as well, smashing her elbow into the jaw of one of the soldiers that had previously held her, and kicked the other in the shin. When they had fallen onto his knees, Kumori had launched her own into his face. But, for all her strength as a soldier, Urabe was unable to evade the next rally of men that came her way.

"_What do you think you're doing?!"_ she had screamed at the top of her lungs, but together with the wind, her words had been ignored. "Meiwaku!" Kumori had continued, calling for the extremist's attention.

He had looked to her and though he had worn a black mask to cover his face, Kumori had known it to be him. Meiwaku had given her a smile, one Urabe felt would remain with her until the end of her days. It had been sinister and devilish. "Little Urabe," she remembered him say to her. "Enjoying the view?" The extremist stretched his arms out wide and peered into the scene before him.

"Take off your mask!" her voice had roared into the night. "_Take off your mask!" _The way Meiwaku and his friends had looked at her then showed just how much they disregarded her words, yet she had persisted. "It seems I can't stop you from killing this man, but at least let him see you. _Your _face. At least let the man look you in the eyes before you throw him off the building." Meiwaku had then looked into the hostage's face. He had seemed to revel in the idea of evoking a fear in his victim who was a simple and ordinary Britannian man. In another life, Kumori imagined him to have been a nice man, one with a friendly smile and without prejudice. But she had seen nothing but that fear and loathing that marred his features. The man was about to die, no doubt, yet he had remained every bit the person the Japanese thought of when they heard the name "Britannian" – someone full of hatred, a hatred that had been channelled towards the likes of Kumori.

Surprisingly, Meiwaku had complied, pulling off his mask and revealing his face. "Now," he said, moving towards the hostage. "Any last words?" he asked. Now, the sun was rising in the distance. The water looked as though it was set afire with shimmering lights, as if the starless night had been the result of all the stars in the sky falling to the shifting surface of the lake, their lustre dancing. But the greatest star was Dawn itself. Kumori knew not if the hostage had ever answered Meiwaku's question; she was mesmerized as watched the celestial body of light slowly ascend. "Let all you Britannians fall," the warrant officer said mischievously, pushing the hostage off the edge of the building. The man fell into the light; it embraced him as his body plummeted to the hard ground. Urabe shuddered at the thought of how it would end.

Laughter. And then there was just laughter.

"Kusakabe orders us to send them a message," stated Meiwaku. The others looked to him as _he _was their leader. Kumori did no such thing, though. "Tell them that our demands have gone unanswered," he continued. The soldier seemed not at all agitated like some of the other ranking officers among him; in his eyes she sensed a curiosity growing in those dark irises, a wonder into how long the Britannians would hold out against them, if they did at all. This only fuelled her own agitation; she felt her blood coursing a fire through her veins as her anger rose. "and therefore will throw one hostage from the roof every thirty minutes until our terms are met. For the sake of the hostages, negotiations better be in good faith."

_What?!_ her mind screamed. Urabe in that instant retreated back into the hotel, the place which they had turned into a convent for extremists, and searched through the halls for Kusakabe. She didn't care for Meiwaku's shouts after her; in fact, she tried with all her will to block his voice from her mind. She needed to see Josui Kusakabe, she needed to speak to him, she needed answers. He had come to her the night before and asked her to do this mission, and in her childish foolishness and her yearn to be accepted by something..._someone..._Kumori had gladly accepted the task. That was what disgusted her the most. Not Meiwaku, or the rest of the other officers that joined him. Her. It was _she _who disgusted her the most, herself. Had she known of all the things they would come to do to these Britannians, Kumori truly believed that not even all the desire her heart contained for acceptance would have lead to this path. She opened the door to a room close by the room of hostages, surprised by what she found, or what she did not.

* * *

><p>THE SECOND HOLY SWORD<p>

He laid in the darkness on his bunk, looking into space. He thought of nothing in that moment. Everything was nice, quiet and peaceful. He forgot all about his worries, the war he was fighting against Britannia. He forgot it all and it was as though a weight had been lifted from him. So long as it was calm here in his room, Urabe felt he _could _forget it all. To let his mind rest was what he'd wanted. After a while, Kosetsu felt his lids grow heavy, he was slowly drifting into sleep and dreams when there was a loud knock on his door. The soldier ignored it the first time, but when the knocking became more violent, he threw his sheets from atop him and opened the door.

He had been about to scream in the face of the man who had disturbed him, but then that man turned out to be his very own superior, General Kyoshiro Tohdoh, and Urabe restrained himself. "General," he said. He stood up straight and tried to look the man in the eyes without letting his confusion and exhaustion evident. Not even a greeting and Tohdoh walked straight past him and into his room. In the faint glint of light he seemed to be searching for something. His clothes. When he had located them he threw them at Urabe. "Put them on," was all he said to the soldier, without even looking back in his direction. He is angry, Kosetsu thought to himself. He is pissed and I don't know why. He tried to think of everything and anything he had done in the past day, the memories played through his mind like pages in a book. What did I do? he continued to think, trying to study the general's face to gain an inkling of what could have bothered him.

In his mind, he blamed this all on Asahina. It was always Asahina, him and his antics. Or Chiba...? It was never Senba.

"Urabe," Tohdoh said, his voice louder this time. He stood looking at Urabe's face, and then his eyes slowly shifted to the crumpled uniform in his arms, the uniform he had yet to put on.

Kosetsu had been staring, staring and not doing anything, too busy letting his mind float off into the thought of his punishment. He threw on his pants and shirt in an instant. He'd yet to put on his boots or jacket before Tohdoh began to tell him to walk. "Katase wants to see you," he said as he followed him through the base. Why would his uncle want to see him so late in the middle of the night? If there had been anything worse than Tohdoh being mad at him, it was his uncle being mad at him as well.

"What is this about, General?" Urabe asked, trying to get answers. The only reply he received came from the silent air, or at least that was what he'd thought at first, but as they drew closer to their destination, Tohdoh spoke to him quietly. "We can't speak about this here," His voice sounded weary. Cautious. "You never know who could be listening on us. In fact, we may be watched already." Urabe looked around him in that moment. The thought of being watched lingered in his mind, making him feel rather uneasy.

When they arrived at his uncle's quarters, Urabe saw that Senba and Chiba were already there waiting for them. He flashed a look towards them in the hope that they would somehow relieve him of his ignorance with a glance, but what he saw was the look of sympathy, and perhaps even a sadness, in their eyes. There was one table at the centre of the room, a seat at either side. In one sat General Katase himself. His eyes shifted to his nephew as he heard him and Tohdoh enter the room.

"Have you heard?" the general asked. By now, his gaze had averted away from Urabe. A wave of confusion swept over the soldier. Without such eye contact, Kosetsu no longer was able to _see _in his superior's eyes what was wrong. Sadness? Anger? Or the emotion he dreaded the most of all – fear? Katase looked up from the hands which were folded on the table, but still, his gaze remained away from Urabe. He, along with everyone else, waited for the Holy Sword's answer.

"That depends," he said.

"The hotel-jacking," was all that the General said at first. It seems he knew from Urabe's changed face that he had indeed not known. "Over a hundred hostages, and at least half that number of security members killed." Katase continued. In his eyes, he bore a look that was solemn, and in his voice that seriousness was ever the more dire. "Our men infiltrated the premises at noon when all the Britannian politicians were ushered inside, and from then seized them with fear and death and threats."

"_Our men," _Urabe said after a moment's pause to take it all in. He gazed at his uncle. "You say that as if _you _yourself gave the order to take the building." Kosetsu knew that it had not been his uncle who had given the order, and the change in the senior's face confirmed that. But that subtle change also let slip the idea that it might as well have been General Katase who had done so. "Someone of high command gave the order." It was more of a statement than a question, though he yearned for someone to respond to him all the same. He hated the silence, and everyone was silent. It was as suffocating as it was consuming; he could not think straight, he could not breathe, he... "_Kusakabe!" _Kosetsu finally cried, slamming both palms on the table and levelling his gaze with his uncle.

"_Josui Kusakabe!" _Urabe yelled out, accusingly. He was so certain in his views. Who else could be behind this attack...? Who else...?heasked himself. But the more and more he looked into the eyes of his general, doubt clutched the Holy Sword's heart, and so he turned to his comrades. He looked to General Tohdoh first. Even in his stoicism, Urabe believed he could unearth the answers from his leader's stare, find an intimation of the truth. Then he turned to Senba and Chiba. Nagisa did everything in her power to avoid Urabe's eyes, but the man beside her stepped forward.

"We searched everywhere for her, but we couldn't find her. She was nowhere to be found, Kosetsu." Senba stated.

Urabe turned away from him immediately and locked his gaze back on Katase. The words meant nothing to him; he didn't understand them. "Josui Kusakabe...?" His voice had grown quiet as though he feared speaking the name of the man he condemned. Waiting for his answer, he listened into the silence, waiting for it to break. And then... His uncle gave him his answer. "Bring him in," the general ordered. In that moment Tohdoh stepped out the room. Upon his return, he brought in with him another man. From his state he didn't look like a military man, a member of the JLF, but Urabe recognised the face the second he caught sight of it. Those dark eyes and that wide grin, Kosetsu looked upon them, and the name escaped his lips. "Kusakabe," he said again, this time with disgust.

* * *

><p>THE SHADOW<p>

The room was empty. _The room was empty! _They had told her that Kusakabe had been giving them all orders from this room and yet there was no sign of him. Meiwaku stepped through the door, the smile he took from the devil borne on his face. He laughed as though this was funny, but his laughter reached Kumori's ears as if it were the cackle of witch, or some other sort of fiendish creature. She wanted so deeply to hit him but refrained herself. Instead, she looked him in the eyes. "If Josui Kusakabe is the one ordering you around, telling you to abuse these _innocent _citizens. To throw them from the roof to prove that we – the Japanese, the _Elevens! –_ are not dead," That was the number the Britannians had rechristened them with, that branded them as property of their empire. She hated the word, and there was nothing but hate inside her. "To tell the world that we are not finished, if he is ordering you to do that – then where on this _Kami'_s earth is he?!" She screamed the words in the extremist's face, but, from the lack of change in his expression, he took the words as if they meant nothing. "Where. Is. He?"

The warrant officer laughed again.

"_Where is your commander?!" _

"Right here." It was the only thing he said to her in those moments, yet those two words awakened a great tumult within her. Noting that Urabe wasn't going to say anything, Meiwaku took his opportunity. "Kusakabe is not here." he simply said. "He was never here." This pushed her mind further into a state of confusion. "In the military code, when an officer with the rank of at least Captain – whether that be due to death or in this case"—he giggled—"there wasn't any officer of that rank to begin with, the role of leader goes to the solider with the highest rank."

"Me."

"You."

"But I haven't been giving you any orders," Kumori added, slowly sinking into herself.

"No," Meiwaku admitted. "But Katase, Tohdoh and everyone else only needs to think that you did." And then it dawned on her. All of it, everything, what she did, it all came down to one thing. "If everything goes to hell, and we lose, we would be captured. Killed by the Britannians. We would die faceless, no one would remember who we were, but you... they would remember you." He stopped to exercise the thought in his brain, and smiled mockingly. "Your name" he continued. "would be forever engraved on the pages of history, and Kusakabe's... He would live on to continue our vengeance. And should we win, Katase will surely punish us for acting against his will. But what can he do?" He shrugged. "If Kusakabe is not here, and we all say that you were the ones who led this mission? Why, he _must _lock you up, or even have you, his precious niece, killed. Either way, Kusakabe lives on—"

"—by using me as a scapegoat for his crimes!" There was a aching in her chest. Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. She was hurting. They had given her this pain, it burned at her core, but her fear had made her numb. In the end, Kumori felt nothing. "You regard him as your king," she realised, looking into Meiwaku's face. Even though he wore no crown, held no titles beside the one he held in the army, the extremists believed in Kusakabe as their saviour. And in return Urabe asked herself one vital question: If _this_ man is their king, and _that_ man is their emperor, what was the difference between the Japanese and the Britannians? In her heart, she ached for the answer.

* * *

><p>THE GODDESS OF VICTORY<p>

Cornelia sat in her seat at the head of the room. Her head rested on her hands as she looked into space. Guilford as usual was stood by her side, silent unless spoken to, whilst Generals Alec and Darlton stood in front of her, speaking. Whether they spoke among themselves or directly to her was a mystery to the princess. Even though she was sat in a room full of so many other officers, her thoughts were her thoughts alone, and she only thought of one thing.

"All bridges connecting to the hotel with the exception of the main one have been destroyed." spoke General Alec, who rested his palms on the projector table before him. He seemed somewhat frustrated, but attempted not express it. "Our attempted approaches from the air and water have been unsuccessful." he said to Cornelia, turning towards her, finally calling her from her own apprehensive mind. Alec lifted a fist to his chest in sign of the respect he held for his Chief General. "There's only one route left that will allow us to develop a possible hostage rescue plan."

Cornelia lifted her head at this.

"The main utilities tunnel running directly beneath the convention centre hotel." On the projection previewed an electronic map of the hotel, the tunnel of which Alec spoke glowing red to draw Cornelia's attention. "Basically we would go in through this route, destroy the foundation block and submerge the hotel." the general went on, looking at the princess for permission to continue relaying his plans. She gave him a slight nod to give him that permission. "Since the tunnel was also built to handle supply deliveries, it should be able to accommodate Sutherlands. Even if the enemy have taken precautions, it should be no problem. They've been using substandard weaponry so we'll have no trouble evading them."

Cornelia had no trouble believing that. Knightmare Frames were the future, yet the Elevens clung to their old machinery, suffering dearly for it. The sound of gunfire echoed in her mind as she thought back to that day. They had threw everything and anything at her way, but did little damage in the end. The Viceroy had gone out searching for the Japan Liberation Front and found the Blood of the Sumerai. They had been smaller in number though ignorant and foolish all the same...

_They sensed her the moment she drove her knightmare into view. "Cornelia!" she imagined they chanted as they narrowed their aim on her, directing their tank guns in her direction. "Witch! Demon!" In the distance, the Viceroy saw the main guns of the military tanks shift, their barrels rising and stretching towards her. Perhaps for other women this would have struck a mortal fear in the heart. But even the most minute trace of fear in her vanished the moment she drew in with her knightmare frame, her Gloucester. Before her, their guns pointed, like fingers. _

"_Relics of a forgotten age." she spat out in her cockpit, peering down on their weapons. When they began firing at her, Cornelia pushed herself forward in her seat. The motion to drive her knightmare forward felt most natural to her. Her fingers held onto the controls loosely and advanced. She dodged their fire easily, her Gloucester gliding against the solid ground swiftly. Their bullets hit the earth with enough force to crack its surface and in some cases shatter the rock into crumbly pieces. These pieces ricocheted onto her knightmare; she evaded their direct attacks though could not for the recoils of nature. Yet her Gloucester remained unharmed. _

_Fools! the Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire thought as she released her right slash harken into the nearest battle tank below. Once connected, the body burst into flames, giving birth to an eruption of noise and smoke as black as coal. Do you truly think that you could defeat me with such ancient artefacts?! her mind continued on as she released another harken onto the tank not far from the first. She pushed at her controls, propelling her knightmare into the air. From her embedded slash harkens, Cornelia catapulted her Gloucester back to the earth below her. Die! the voice in her mind roared as her knightmare rocketed down onto her target. Like the artefact the princess renamed it to be, the tank smashed beneath the weight of her fifth-generation knightmare and erupted into flames not long after. _

"_Surrender at once, you feeble minded elevens." she ordered once she directed her electronic body further into the stomach of the Elevens' base. _

"_Down with Britannia!" hundreds of men thundered in a chorus of battle cries. Their bullets hit Cornelia's knightmare like rain to the skin, with minimal damage._

_Doesn't look like the JLF are here, she thought to herself. That was her task after all, to rid Area 11 of its resistance. And though this body of rebels were part of list of targets, they were not her priority. The Japan Liberation Front had offended the Second Princess deeply, more than she would ever care to admit; them not being here only fuelled the rage in her. So, she raised her assault rifle with one quick shift in her pit. This is for Clovis, they were the words she thought in that moment, but the words she said aloud were: "Rot like the vermin you are!" She fired until everything was destroyed. The tanks in the distance burned orange. It almost looked beautiful, like the earth was set afire with tiny candlelights._

"Wiped out?!" Andreas Darlton yelled to Alec. They had sent three Sutherlands ahead of the main body of pilots into the tunnel, though none of them survived. Their arrogance no longer seemed deserved. Darlton's concern alone had been enough to draw Cornelia from her memories.

"It looks as though they've modified a Glasgow into a canon." informed Alec, the look of surprise still evident on his face. His mindset seemed in infect those around him as an ensemble of voices broke out from the silence. "Then there's no way we can break through!" one man shouted from the other end of the room. Another man suggested to the princess to give into the terrorists' demands; Cornelia despised the idea much more than she appreciated it. "We can't show weakness to terrorists!" she interrupted, her voice booming.

Guilford lowered his head to the angry princess' ear. "Princess Euphemia...she's..."

"Yes, I know." Cornelia said before he could go on further. In truth, she believed her knight unable to go on with his words, and so spoke out before he ever had the chance to continue. Gilbert cared for Euphie just as much as she did; to say such a thing would be painful.

Alec seemed to overhear his princess' words. "Thus far it appears that none of them have discovered that fact. If they learn that princess Euphemia is among the hostages, they'll undoubtedly use her as a bargaining chip." The thought of that came to Cornelia like venom to the vein, it weakened her mind. "She went there just to observe, therefore she isn't registered along with the other guests." And do you think that's enough to settle me? she asked. Alec's mouth continued to move, but Cornelia didn't hear any of his next words. She only heard her own. _Euphie._

* * *

><p>Author's Notes: Sorry for the long wait! I've been very busy and didn't have as much time as I would have hoped to write this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, though! Please review my work and inform me if anything is confusing or hard to follow; this chapter after all was difficult for me to write. Thank you!<p> 


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